Hopelessly Devoted
by maraudor
Summary: Kurt/Finn. "Look, Kurt, I'm straight, but I'm gay for you. Are you straight for me?" "That doesn't make any sense, Finn." One-shot.


I had a little epiphany yesterday and decided to write this. I'm not really sure what this is. Maybe it's a bit of a drabble, kind of cliche and definitely not one in a million, but I'd like it if you read it anyways. And review, too, because I love reviews as much as I love Glee... sort of.

I got the title for this one-shot because I had the thought that Kurt could totally sing Hopelessly Devoted to You on the show. I mean, the lyrics fit him perfectly, what with his undying love for Finn and stuff. Don't you agree? I'll refrain from giving you a complete analysis of why it would work. Anyways, enjoy! (And kindly ignore the simplistic plotline)

_disclaimer:_ I don't own Glee or anything affiliated.

* * *

**~* Hopelessly * Devoted *~**

_I know I'm just a fool who's willing_

_To sit around and wait for you_

_Baby, can't you see? There's nothing left for me to do_

_I'm hopelessly devoted to you._

Finn Hudson knew that he had every reason to feel lucky, happy, and satisfied with life. He got along with nearly everyone, had recently been relieved of the stress of being a teenage father, and was star of the glee club and captain of the football team. Sure, he broke up with his steady girlfriend, but he was still handsome. Chicks dig hot dudes, right? Girls that he'd never even noticed before were throwing him dreamy looks in the hallways between classes. If he wanted, he could scoop up another girlfriend in a matter of seconds.

Literally.

Still, despite this, the star quarterback was suffering from all kinds of crap. He was gloomy, melancholy; a mere shadow of his cheerful and boisterous past self. Quinn had _cheated _on him. She had lost her freaking virginity to his best mate. He was Puck's boy, as his old friend had conveniently put it, and she was his pregnant girlfriend, and yet they'd both betrayed him. When he found out he swore he wanted to karate chop her and kick his ass like the leads do in all the super cool action movies, or at least reenact one of the most violent scenes from his Xbox games. Later that day, he had whipped out his trusted journal from third grade (You know, where they had to spill out all their feelings and whatnot so they could grow up into sappy and sensitive adults who couldn't take a punch.) and labeled everything that happened as "The Incident." He marveled at his creativity.

Ever since the incident he'd done a lot of thinking, which was surprising, considering the miniscule amount of mental energy he usually used. His first thought was to hook up with Rachel, but after a short bout of consideration on the matter, he turned that idea down. Sure, the girl had devotedly attached herself to him as soon as he'd split up with Quinn, and she always listened (at least to him), plus she had a hot body, but something just didn't seem right about them being together. And he thought that maybe she was just a few inches too short and he didn't want to crouch down every time they kissed.

Finn smoothed down his worn, gray cotton T-shirt. Thinking back to everything that happened a month ago, he felt foolish. He seemed so naïve, so narrow minded when it came to everything. There were times when his thoughts were even selfish and insensitive. When he started to notice this he wasn't exactly sure of, but he knew that he regretted everything that ever passed through his mind until recently.

Kurt had come up to him two days after everything happened and accused him of being an insensitive nimrod. Finn hadn't really been sure what the term "nimrod" meant at the time, but he could judge from the tone of the soprano's voice that it was far from a compliment.

And then, he remembered, he'd automatically labeled Kurt as a horribly emotionless jerk who didn't care about anyone other than himself. Everybody else was sympathizing Finn, telling him that "it'd all be okay" and "these things happen" and "nothing was his fault."

He'd liked that.

But he realized that Kurt had seen what had really gone on inside his head. Kurt had known that he'd been mentally calling Quinn a bitch, imagining multiple ways to physically assault Puck, and had been weighing his choices at another girlfriend.

"Stop staring at girls' bodies, Finn," Kurt had said softly one day in the hallway. Finn had been attempting to subtly observe Tara McNeil's ass as she passed his locker.

He scowled. "Why do you care anyway, Kurt?" he spat. "You're the only one who's been giving me a load of crap. I don't deserve that stuff. You don't care about me. You never did."

Kurt slammed his locker shut. "Don't you see?" he snapped, clutching his binders and textbooks to his chest. "I'm the only one who _does _care. I can see what's going on in your thoughts, Finn, and I don't like it. I care enough that I want you to be the better person."

Finn smiled, thinking about how Kurt had stormed off in a huff immediately afterwards, his impeccable hair staying perfectly in place and his scarf blowing in the breeze. Ever since then, Finn had changed the way he looked at things. He'd also liked Kurt a hell of a lot more, and started hanging out with him.

Pretty soon Kurt had become his best friend. Finn wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but he'd always appreciated how Kurt had listened to everything he said and always had meaningful advice ready to share. Kurt was there when he'd gotten rejected by Alesandra Jacoby, cooing and insisting that it wasn't Finn's fault. Girls were his problem, Kurt had said.

He'd liked that. And he'd believed that.

Finn had faced a load of crap, with people calling him "fag" and "gay" and laughing at him in between classes just because he'd started to spend a lot of time with Kurt, and that he made no effort to find himself another girlfriend. One particularly cruel jock on the basketball team had gone so far as to slushie Finn with pink strawberry corn syrup. Taunting and jeering, he'd shouted that blue wasn't feminine enough for him, and hanging out with teenage gays had turned him gay, too.

That was the day that Finn had almost ended his friendship with Kurt.

He couldn't though. Not with Kurt's gorgeous hazel eyes staring at him questioningly. Not with his adorable bottom lip quivering ever so slightly at Finn's serious face. Not with his books hugged securely to his chest as he waited for the worst. Not with the smell of strawberries and cream lingering in the air due to the close proximity of their bodies.

That was also the day that Finn realized he liked Kurt.

A week later, Kurt told him he was gay.

He also told him that Mercedes and his dad already knew, which disappointed Finn a little bit. It would make him feel special as hell if he'd been the first to know. He was an idiot that day. He didn't say, "Hey, I like you, so maybe we should go out some time," or even, "I think I'm bisexual, so we should make out."

He said, "That's cool, dude. I won't tell anyone."

Well, curse him and his lack of courage.

An exploding sound from his beloved Xbox drew Finn out of his trance. His tank was destroyed in a subatomic combustion of sorts. Groaning, he flopped onto his bed and lazily shut down his game system without even bothering to save. Still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, he pulled the covers up to his chin and drifted off to sleep.

Kurt wore a pair of flamboyant purple skinny jeans and a bedazzled denim jacket the next day. His hair was in its usual perfection, every inch of it secured in place with hairspray. His shirt was a solid black. A lofty white scarf wound its way around his neck. Finn wore a navy blue shirt that still had some crumbs from his morning breakfast across the front and an old, baggy pair of jeans. His hair was a mess—he'd woken up late and had to rush to catch the bus. His socks were mismatched.

"Hi, Finn," Kurt breathed excitedly, rushing up to his friend.

"Hey. We match today."

Kurt grinned, then frowned slightly and stepped forward to examine the remnants of Finn's breakfast. Finn froze. Kurt smelled like lemon mint today. He just wanted to step closer, to breathe in more, to smell him. He was almost about to kiss Kurt's forehead when he realized that the other boy was eyeing him strangely. "So yeah, how was your day?" he asked stupidly.

Kurt laughed, but stifled it quickly. He had a fabulous laugh; it sounded like silver bells on Christmas Day and a triangle ringing out from a symphony orchestra. "Well, considering that it's only 7:26 in the morning," Kurt chuckled, checking his slender, emerald encrusted watch, "pretty good. I see you had Cheerios for breakfast." He blushed. (Finn loved it when Kurt blushed.) "I mean, the food, not the… cheerleaders and stuff."

"Yeah." Finn shuffled his feet.

Awkward.

Finn didn't know why he suddenly decided to inform Kurt of his feelings for him. When the idea first came to mind, he thought he was having a mental breakdown. He even considered going to the school nurse and asking for some medication. He couldn't though, because he was in the middle of a math quiz and he needed the entire period to complete it.

At the end of glee club that day, he summoned up all his courage and approached Kurt.

"Can we talk?"

Bewildered, the smaller boy nodded.

They sat down, face to face, in the hard plastic chairs that lay scattered around the room. Kurt looked utterly confused at why he was there. Finn stared at the ground.

He cleared his throat. "Kurt," he announced finally. "I like you."

A dead silence greeted him at the end of his confession.

"Um, okay, Finn," Kurt said slowly, not understanding the need for such a serious confrontation. "I'm glad that you appreciate me as a friend, but I still don't really see the reason for pulling me behind practice to inform me of it. I mean, I'm _flattered_, in a sense, but this all seems like too much of a show to be taken seriously."

"N-No!" Finn stammered, getting redder by the minute. "I mean, I _like _you. You know, in… the romantic way." By now, his face was as red as the red of Kurt's converse sneakers.

Kurt's mouth formed a perfect O. His perfectly waxed eyebrows narrowed suspiciously. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The monstrously tall teenager seemed close to tears. This was much worse that rejection. Kurt wasn't even considering him to actually have feelings. Suddenly overcome with a stroke of inspiration, he brightened. "No, I'm serious. Look, Kurt," he said, his expression grave. "I'm straight, but I'm gay for you. Are you straight for me?"

There was a pause. Both boys' faces were the same flaming flush. Kurt tried to hide his embarrassment and maintain his stony expression. "That doesn't make any sense, Finn," Kurt whispered softly.

Finn frowned. It didn't?

Kurt paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "But your audacity is both refreshing and compelling. And I do like you."

Kurt tasted like strawberries when they kissed. It was the best kiss that Finn had ever experienced: chaste and sweet and soft. It was nothing like the multiple heated make out sessions that he used to have with Quinn, or like the guilty yet reasonably enjoyable lip locks he'd experienced with Rachel a handful of times. It was… sensual. And different.

The kiss only lasted about ten seconds, because Finn pulled away long enough to whoop in ecstasy and punch the air with his fist. Then they kissed again, and again. The school was empty, and both boys ignored the vibrating of their cell phones—their parents were waiting for them to leave the building, after all.

"I like your Chapstick," Finn mumbled sheepishly after about five kisses or so. "It tastes like strawberries and all that nice stuff, you know? It tastes… good."

"I'm glad you had a breath mint before telling me," Kurt offered, quirking an eyebrow at him.

They kissed again.

Kurt finally untangled himself from Finn's tight embrace only to send a text to his father, telling him that he had to stay a little longer to work on expanding his vocal range. He also added that a friend could drive him home. He patiently listened to the multiple voicemails that his concerned parent had left him as Finn did the same with his mom. He told her that one of his friends would need a lift home after practicing.

They both got home late that day.

_My head is saying, "Fool, forget it."_

_My heart is saying, "Don't let go."_

_Hold on till the end: that's what I intend to do_

_I'm hopelessly devoted to you._


End file.
